


Kiss and Makeup

by HariWrites



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, F/M, M/M, Makeup Artist Marinette, Model Adrien Agreste, Models vs Makeup Artists, Multi, Reverse Crush (Miraculous Ladybug), Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Stranger Sex, Swingers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-12 08:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17464358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HariWrites/pseuds/HariWrites
Summary: Rena Rouge and Carapace run an elite, members' only club for couples and select singles. At one of their exclusive parties, Ladybug meets Chat Noir and falls for him. Then the model, Adrien Agreste meets feisty makeup artist, Marinette, and it's love at first sight. Will these two ridiculous people realise each other's identities or do their best friends, Alya and Nino, have to step in and sort them out?!A Models, Makeup Artists and Masked Meetups AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hi, funny story. I had an idea and asked my fellow ML fanfic writers what they thought. Instead of talking me out of it, they've convinced me to throw myself in the deep end with this fic. What can I say? I'm easily led. Thankfully, [ZiriO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZiriO/pseuds/ZiriO), [MiniMinou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniMinou/pseuds/MiniMinou) and [EtoilesJaunes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoilesJaunes/pseuds/EtoilesJaunes) have loaned me their water-wings by way of their excellent beta skills <3

The luxury penthouse apartment was a different style of venue to the usual velvet-draped, candlelit mansion she was used to, but it was sophisticated nonetheless. Chrome and glass shone, subtle uplighting and strategically placed fairy lights kept the ambience similar (though less hazardous than naked flame). Marinette couldn’t help but giggle at the idea that soon, many hand, ass and other prints would adorn the polished surfaces.

She took a glass of champagne from a scantily clad waitress and assessed how the lingerie looked in the different lighting. When Alya asked her to design the ‘uniforms’ for her waiting staff, she had no idea what she was getting into. Now, she had a thriving side venture, designing bespoke lingerie for a select few party regulars.

Tonight, however, wasn’t about work. It was about forgetting work and losing herself.

Marinette scanned the guests, making a mental note of who she wanted to speak to later. That was when she saw him: the newcomer. Single men were few and far between on Alya and Nino’s guestlist. Single women and couples made up the majority and any single men were heavily vetted. This guy had to be something special to have made it this far.

He was suave simplicity personified. He didn’t need more than a classic tuxedo and plain black mask to stand out. Almost. The Venetian-style mask included two cat ears, partially obscured by shaggy blonde hair. Intense, vivid green eyes bored into her and drew her in.

“Hi, have we met?” She smiled coyly.

At Rena Rouge’s parties, men did not approach women, it was a strict rule. Alya enforced that uncompromisingly.

“I doubt it, it’s my first party.”

Nerves were barely concealed beneath a haughty bravado, but Marinette could see it in the way his eyes darted and how he held his champagne flute in both hands, gripping it tightly. She took pity on him and lightly stroked her fingertips over the back of his hand.

“The first time can be daunting. How are you finding it?”

He gulped. “Daunting sums it up.”

God, he was cute.

“Take your time and don’t do anything until you’re ready. It’s okay to be a voyeur for a while. Hell, it’s okay to be a voyeur for the entire time, if you like.”

He bit his lip, teeth worrying the plump pink skin as he thought about his response. She saw a flash of wickedness momentarily pass over his face and was intrigued.

“Thanks,” he finally said.

“What was your first response? The one that made you smirk?”

A blush spread across his face and he rubbed the back of his neck guiltily. He was caught. The naughty boy with his hand in the cookie jar look suited him. She wondered if she could elicit such a reaction in him in other ways.

“I, uh, was going to ask if I could watch you… Sorry.”

She grinned. _That’s more like it._ She held the lapels of his jacket and moved closer to him. His hands dropped to his sides.

“Who would you like to watch me with?” She whispered.

His eyes widened in surprise and his jaw fell slack. “Uh…”

Across the room, Marinette spied a familiar form. Dark bobbed hair immaculately styled to frame a serious face, turned in their direction. The silvery cocktail dress hugged her athletic body and matched the red and silver pointed mask she wore. Marinette’s blue eyes locked with brown for mere seconds, long enough to communicate her intentions. She turned back to the black cat.

“What about her?”

Speechless, he nodded.

“Come with me,” she beckoned.

Marinette took the glass from him and set it on the nearest table before taking his hand and leading him towards the spiral staircase that led to the bedrooms. Riposte caught up with her on the landing.

“I’m not interested in him,” she said in her usual blunt fashion.

“He’s here to watch,” she assured her, looking pointedly at the black cat. “No touching.”

That was all Riposte needed. She pushed Marinette against the wall, kissing along her collarbone as she reached for the door handle of the closest, vacant room. Once the door was open, she wrapped one arm around Marinette’s waist and lifted her effortlessly into the bedroom to lay her on the bed.

Riposte let her cocktail dress drop to the floor, revealing red satin bra and panties. A rather uninspired choice. The uncharitable thought fled as soon as her toned stomach and muscular legs took Marinette’s breath away, so she supposed they fulfilled their purpose. She rolled onto her stomach and regarded her companion over her shoulder.

“You couldn’t unzip me, could you?”

Obligingly, Riposte unfastened her dress and Marinette sat up and wriggled out of it. In the dim light, she caught the black cat’s eyes and ran her palms down the black lace balconette bra to the matching hipster briefs and garter belt. He unconsciously ran his tongue across his lips.

Their eye contact was broken when Riposte kissed her and Marinette’s eyes fell shut. Full soft lips claimed hers as strong hands pushed her back onto the bed. The other woman’s tongue found hers, asserting her dominance. Short nails dragged across her breasts, pulling the bra aside and lingering on her nipples, pinching them until Marinette gasped.

A whimper from the doorway broke their kiss as both women looked to where the newcomer was standing, transfixed, appearing unaware that he’d even made the sound.

“You want to put on a show?” Riposte murmured into her ear.

She answered with a low moan, “yes.”

An arrogant smirk appeared on Riposte’s face and her eyes gleamed with mischievous intent. She unclipped one of Marinette’s stockings and peeled it slowly from her leg. Looping the silk, she expertly tied a handcuff knot, locking each of the loops in place with a half hitch. Marinette offered her wrists and was soon restrained to the headboard, arms above her head. The binds were loose and she could slip her hands from them at any time, but where would the fun be in that?

“You know the deal, any tingling, coldness or loss of sensation, you speak up, yes?”

She nodded in understanding.

Riposte’s lips, teeth and tongue worked a trail from behind her ear, down her neck and along her collarbone. Marinette found the black cat’s eyes, noticing the brilliance of the shade of green behind his mask. Even with the upper half of his face obscured, he was intimidatingly attractive.

The light strokes of fingers on her stomach distracted her, followed by the flickering of a tongue. She felt Riposte pause at a sensitive spot above her hip and trace a shape with her fingertip. Marinette had a new tattoo, a neo-traditional ladybug in flight, and this was the first time Riposte would have seen it. She must have approved, because she laid a delicate kiss on the area before hooking the edge of her panties and removing them tantalisingly slowly. She arched her back in anticipation and tugged on her wrist restraints. From the door, she heard a long, laboured exhalation and her own breath hitched in response. The thrill of his eyes on her intensified every touch and caress.

Riposte’s hands ran from Marinette’s knee to the tops of her thighs, then traced the crease of her hips before lifting her un-stockinged knee and placing kisses up her inner thigh. Hot breath warmed her already heated core and she squirmed. A strong hand held her in place as another parted her folds and pushed a finger inside her. Marinette writhed with pleasure under her touch, feeling his eyes all over her.

“So wet. Is it all for me?”

“It’s for you,” Marinette said, still looking toward the figure in the doorway.

Riposte added a second finger, deeper with every stroke, reaching new, untouched parts of her, claiming Marinette for herself, not the newcomer. When her thumb circled her tender nub, Marinette moaned and gripped the headboard.

“Fuck!”

Riposte’s tongue danced across her sensitive clit and Marinette’s eyes rolled back in her head. The combination of Riposte’s expert tongue, lapping at her, and confident fingers within her were pushing her to the edge. The added excitement of being watched heightened everything she felt.

The significant bulge in the trousers of the silhouette in the doorway told her he was enjoying this, too. Not as much as she was, though, Marinette was sure.

Just then, Riposte flicked her tongue and Marinette’s already amplified nerves jangled and called out eagerly for release. Soon, the building tension inside her exploded and she cried out as waves of pleasure pulsed through her body. The problem with not knowing anyone’s real name was not having something tangible to cry out at moments like this. Instead, the sounds that fell from her mouth were a series of involuntary whimpers, expletives, and entreaties to deities Marinette didn’t even believe in.

A deep kiss silenced her and she tasted herself on Riposte’s lips. Marinette rode out her orgasm against her hand grinding into Riposte until the quivering subsided. As she caught her breath, Riposte undid her restraint, checking her hands, squeezing her fingers, ensuring they hadn’t been tied too tightly.

With one final kiss, Riposte picked up her cocktail dress and left the room, pausing only to whisper something to the black cat. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard in response.

Marinette located her underwear as he approached the bed, picking up the discarded stocking before he sat down. She readjusted her bra and pulled her panties up her legs, giggling at the strangeness of the situation.

“How’s your first sex party going?” she asked.

He laughed and snaked the now-mangled stocking restraint between his fingers. “It’s surreal.”

She hummed in understanding. Her first party had whizzed by in a confused daze of naked flesh and champagne bubbles. Even now, it was hard to recall the details.

“Are you sure you still want to watch?” She ran her hand over the bulge in his pants.

“I’m growing less sure with every passing minute,” he gasped.

His fingertips found the ladybug tattoo. She was proud of it, Luka had done a good job. The ladybug’s wings were spread and in place of its body was a gem. A green gem. Turns out, she had a thing for emeralds.

“What can I call you?” Her voice quavered under his touch.

“I’m… Chat Noir. Yeah, Chat Noir. And you?”

“Uh, Ladybug.” _Why am I so nervous around him?_ “Call me Ladybug.”

“Well, Ladybug, I believe it’s up to the woman to make the first move.”

He was growing in confidence, becoming cheeky. The lopsided grin was cocksure and Marinette guessed he was something of a ladies man in his real life. Here, though, she was in charge.

“What move, exactly, do you think I should make?”

He blushed under his mask and she knew she had the upper hand again. She didn’t want to unnerve him, but she needed to remind him that she had the control.

“Oh,” he stammered. “I- I- If I were you, uh, I’d uh…”

She smiled. “What would you like, Chat Noir? Tell me.”

He took a long, steadying breath and Marinette felt like a predator, playing with her prey. Did that make him an aphid? In her everyday life, she would never be so bold. Behind her mask, though, she was self-assured, brave.

“I’d like… to screw you hard on this bed, then… buy you a drink, get to know you a little?”

The blush spread to his neck and she felt her cheeks heat to match his. Her cockiness wavered. The tingle between her legs told her she’d like him to screw her, too, but the fluttering in her heart was a warning that she was falling too fast.

“Are you sure?” The question wasn’t really for him.

“No?”

Yes, she was free-falling. He was so sweet and genuine, she'd never met anyone like him. She put her hand on his knee and shivered at the crackle of static electricity she felt.

“Why don’t you buy me that drink first. And… if you still want to fuck me, I’ll let you make the first move.”

He relaxed properly for the first time since she approached him. Smiling, he took her hand and led her back downstairs to the bar. She usually didn’t drink cocktails at these parties, preferring to keep a clear head. Tonight, however, her mind was racing and she needed a touch of dutch courage.

Eschewing the gaudily coloured themed cocktails, she opted for a Caipirinha. Chat Noir chose a Carapace and received a bright green drink in a martini glass.

“Do you always match your drink to your eyes?” She couldn’t help asking.

“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. “Ni- ah, Carapace is the reason I’m here, I figured I owed him this.”

So, he knew about the contest Alya and Nino had to design the most popular cocktail each night. How close were they? The couple often had bets between themselves about which guests would pair up and Marinette wondered if either of them had seen this one coming.

“Rena introduced me,” she felt obliged to share.

“I guess you’ve been to a few of these occasions?”

She looked down at herself, dressed in only her lingerie and one stocking and laughed. “What makes you say that?”

He joined in and his laughter was booming, like music. Behind his mask, his eyes creased with mirth and he threw his head back and guffawed.

“Thanks.”

“What for?”

“Before you came to speak to me, I was about to make my excuses and run for it. My life is all about presenting confidence, but tonight? I was lost. Then you approached me and showed me that I could enjoy this scene. So, thank you.”

She shrugged. It didn’t feel like she’d done much.

“No, really. I would have hated myself for leaving and I know Nino would have been disappointed, too.”

“Carapace,” she corrected him.

He winced. “Sorry, I’m still learning the ropes.”

“The ropes are advanced level. Beginners are advised to use cuffs.”

She winked and drained her glass, setting it abruptly on the bar. The vodka had strengthened her resolve. Her time with him cemented her feelings.

“I’m ready for you to make the first move, if you are.”

He set his empty glass next to hers. “Here?”

“Only if you’re ready.”

The way he scooped her up and kissed her told her that, yes, he was ready.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I am tremendously grateful to EtoilesJaunes, ZiriO and MiniMinou for their wonderful beta skills and excellent encouragement <3

“Don’t blame me because you can’t do your job properly, little girl.”

The makeup artist scoffed, attempting to contain barely concealed rage.

“I’m doing my job,” she said, between clenched teeth. “I’m not the problem here.”

“Are you suggesting I’m the problem? Do you have any idea who I am? Who my _father_ is?”

“I don’t give the first _fuck_ who your father is, blondie. He could be the emperor of the world and it still wouldn’t excuse you turning up for a job looking like this!”

Adrien’s jaw dropped. Nobody spoke to Chloé like that and survived. Even if she deserved it.

“If I turned up for work without the right shade of foundation and dirty brushes, I wouldn’t have a job by the end of the day! Why should you be any different? Your face is your moneymaker, why in hell would you come to work after doing this to it? You NEVER do a deep chemical peel the day before a job! It’s not the base that’s rolling, it’s your skin.”

Gabriel only hired the best makeup artists, hair stylists and photographers. Models, too. Chloé _was_ excellent, however, her attitude towards all the others involved in a photoshoot often left a bitter taste in his mouth. This time, Chloé said nothing.

He almost wanted to applaud the artist's bravery, but he was next in the chair and he knew he wasn’t at his best either. He’d stayed out far too late at the party last night and drank more than he meant to. He was dehydrated and packing a full set of eye bags.

The makeup artist grabbed a pot of cleansing balm from her kit and massaged it into Chloé’s face, removing the failed foundation. Handing her a clean muslin cloth, she snarled.

“Go wash your face. Properly. I’ll deal with you later.”

He watched as she released a long, calming breath and closed her eyes for a moment. It must have worked, because her posture mellowed significantly. She looked toward Adrien and nodded to her makeup chair.

As she rearranged the products on her workstation, he sat tentatively on the high directors-style seat, expecting the worst, but when she turned to him, she was smiling.

“Hi, I’m Marinette and don’t worry, I’m not usually as shouty as that.”

“Adrien,” he said. “And I’m impressed. I’ve never seen anyone put Chloé in her place like that.”

She pursed her lips, refusing to comment. For all that she presented a professional demeanour, Adrien sensed something else –something altogether more scandalous– under the surface.

“Anyway, I’m pleased to see that you have a good skincare routine,” she lightly ran her fingers across the bridge of his nose, leaving a trail of tingles where she touched. “A little redness here, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Sweating under a plastic mask would do that. He made a mental note to ask Nino how to add some kind of soft fabric backing to it before the next party.

“What have you put on your skin today?”

“I washed my face with a foaming cleanser then used a gel moisturiser, that’s all.”

She reached for a small pot and pumped a tiny blob of cream onto her ring finger and spread it on the same finger on the other hand.

“Perfect. Close your eyes.”

He did and she lightly tapped the cream around his eyes. It was relaxing and he had to concentrate on not dozing off. The skin prep was his favourite part of sitting in the makeup chair. He kept his eyes shut as she massaged something into the rest of his face. It felt so good that he started to lose the battle against sleep.

_Black metal, laser cut into an intricate filigree pattern overlaid a scarlet domino mask. On one side, a plume of red polka dotted tulle was held in place by a black silk rose. Clear crystals decorated the mask and when she moved, it caught the light. Behind the mask, eyes like the ocean dazzled, ready to lead him astray._

“Okay, open up, sleepy head,” she giggled.

“Sorry,” he said, blushing. “It feels nice.”

“Big night last night?”

“Something like that, yeah. I stayed out longer than I planned.”

She smiled and reached for a palette full of skin-coloured creams and plucking the correct brush from the belt around her waist.

“So, what were you doing?”

It was an innocent question, but every answer he thought of was too loaded with the truth. His cheeks warmed and he tried to push the memory down.

_He caught his breath, realising that he’d been holding it as he watched her come. Her face was an exquisite mixture of ecstasy and release—he couldn’t look away. He wanted to cause that reaction in her, too. The other woman knew it and smiled slyly, silently challenging him. Riposte ran a finger across her lips and licked it, tasting Ladybug once more. She slipped a condom in his breast pocket as she passed, glancing back at Ladybug. Her cheeks were flushed and hair tousled in the afterglow. Riposte patted his shoulder. “Don’t miss your target.”_

“Uh, just a house party,” he finally answered, what seemed like hours later.

She swiped the brush under his eye and he instinctively looked up. This was routine for him now. Marinette worked to conceal his dark circles and brighten the corners of his eyes. When she moved on to buffing powder over his face, he let his mind wander. His recollections of last night were a hazy mixture of scents and sounds with occasional moments of clarity.

_The soft yield of her lips when he kissed her. The curve of her breasts when she arched her back, offering her neck to him. The salt-sweet taste of sweat on her skin. Breathing in sandalwood and vanilla from her hair, he closed his eyes and let her soft moans wash over him._

“Adrien?” She was clutching a pan of bronzer and a large brush, and wearing an amused expression.

He blinked. “Sorry, I zoned out.”

“I noticed,” she said. “It must have been some house party.”

His mouth suddenly felt dry.

“It was,” he swallowed.

“Do you mind if I trim a couple of stray brow hairs? They’re a little unruly.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine.”

She combed through his eyebrows with a little brush and snipped a few hairs with tiny, pointed scissors. Then, she opened a clear tin, containing a block of something amber coloured. She sprayed it with water and used a fresh brush to rough up the surface.

Seeing his confusion she explained. “It’s soap. Transparent, glycerine soap and a little water is the best way to tame brows and keep them looking natural.”

Brows tamed and a thin layer of tinted lip balm applied, Adrien’s makeup was complete, just in time for the hairstylist to call his name. He moved to the next chair and was replaced by Rose, the third model for the day. Marinette asked her the same questions about skincare.

“I exfoliated last night then used a hyaluronic mask. This morning, I cleansed, used an AHA tonic, then applied my usual eye cream and a priming moisturiser,” the petite blonde explained.

“And that’s why you’re my favourite, Rose.”

Surprised by the envy he felt towards Rose, Adrien questioned if he was becoming too much of a people-pleaser. He had always sought his father’s approval, had the impulse spilled over to others?

Ivan, the hairstylist, brushed through his hair and added a smoothing serum while Adrien continued to watch Marinette with interest. She and Rose chatted easily as she applied primer and foundation before setting it all with powder and adding a soft pink blush. Adrien was enthralled by the swift, precise movements of her wrist and the skilful way she enhanced Rose’s beauty. She was selecting a mascara from her kit when his father marched into the studio, face set into a scowl.

“Why are only two of my models made-up and ready for the shoot?” Gabriel demanded.

Of course Chloé ran to Gabriel! She was never going to allow a dressing-down like Marinette gave her without seeking revenge.

“What did she tell you?” Marinette groaned, unfazed. She dipped a disposable wand into her chosen mascara.

“That you refused to do her makeup.”

She laughed… at Gabriel!

“No. I did her makeup, but because she’s attempted her own at-home chemical peel, her base rolled. I told her to wash her face and I’ll do it again once I’ve prepared the models who know how to look after their skin. The call-sheet for today’s shoot said fresh, natural, glass skin, no? It’s difficult to achieve when a model’s face is literally coming off in pieces.”

“Ah,” The man’s anger immediately subsided. “I see. In which case, I apologise for that outburst. I should hear both sides of the story before I react.”

What was happening?!

Marinette casually applied mascara to Rose’s lashes before turning back to address Gabriel.

“It’s not a problem, M. Agreste.”

He was staring, open-mouthed at the scene. Not only had this woman told off Chloé, but now she’d drawn an apology from Gabriel.

“Whoever she is, I love that girl.”

Behind him, Ivan chuckled.

“No offence but you're not her type. She prefers guys with less polish, you're a bit too clean-cut.”

_She was naked by the time they reached the hallway. She ripped his shirt open, sending one button flying. Nails trailed down his chest towards his stomach and he knew he couldn’t wait for a vacant room. Grabbing her waist, he pulled her into him. “Here,” he said, hardly recognizing his own voice._

“I am not clean cut!” He protested too enthusiastically. Even he wasn’t fooled.

Ivan laughed and patted him on the shoulder before turning his attention to Rose’s hair.

Feeling like a creep, Adrien watched in awe as Marinette (such a beautiful name) chatted easily with his father as she worked on a silently fuming Chloé. She knew better than to say anything while Gabriel was nearby so she had to make do with glaring huffily at Marinette, but as soon as she got the chance, Chloé would make sure she had the final word. Adrien was sure that she’d try her utmost to make Marinette’s life difficult on future jobs; Chloé was hardly the type to forgive and forget.

He _supposed_ he could join in the conversation. Gabriel wanted him to be more involved with the business side of things, after all.

He had to have more faith in himself—that’s what his father told him. Nino, too. That was the reason he’d ended up at the party last night. Nino argued that it was easier to act confident when you were wearing a mask. Anonymity removed the fear of being pre-judged; one of the perils of relative fame. It had worked, but today, the feeling was already fading.

He took his phone out his pocket and reread the message from earlier..

**Nino: Dude, a little fox told me that you got it on with Ladybug?! I thought you said you’d need a while to find your feet XD I knew all you needed was a confidence boost! She’s a real catch.**

He grinned.

_“Condom,” her gravelly reply was confirmation that she couldn’t wait either. He handed her the foil packet and she took it from his trembling fingers. The kiss that followed was more charged than ever. When she lightly bit his lip, it sent a jolt of electricity through him._

If he was impressive enough last night to catch Ladybug’s interest, maybe he could channel that and start talking to Marinette?

“Adrien!”

...Or, maybe, his father could catch him staring and shout so abruptly that he almost shit himself. That could work too.

“Join us.”

He had to remind his legs how to walk in a straight line and tell his face to smile. Oh, god, how did he act normal?! Why was he suddenly so awkward around her?! At least he reached her without falling over, that was a victory.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he father continued, unaware of Adrien’s inner turmoil. “Is the lead makeup artist for our Spring/Summer editorial campaign and I’ve asked her if she’d join us for Fashion Week in February, too.”

“Hi, Adrien, right?” She smiled while he did his best impression of a fish.

“Adrien is going to take the lead in planning the editorial campaign so you’ll be working closely with him,” Gabriel was forced to explain on his behalf.

“Yes, I look forward to getting close to you… uh, working under you… with you. Closely.”

He was ready to die; why couldn’t he use sentences with her? Chloé’s barely stifled giggles didn’t lessen the humiliation. Marinette smiled patiently.

“Sure. I’m interested in your vision for the shoot. I’ve heard Monsieur Agreste’s, of course,” she nodded toward his father. “But, I’d like to know yours.”

Words… He needed to use words.

_Within moments, she had freed his cock from his trousers and sheathed it in latex. Urgency and desire flashed in her eyes. He was emboldened; she wanted him._

“Well, the collection is bright and structured with folk elements like crochet and macrame to soften it. As it’s so colourful and tailored, I wonder if the makeup should be the opposite?”

She smiled and Adrien unclenched. An approving look passed between Marinette and Gabriel.

“I like that. Let me work on a few ideas and I’ll send them over for your feedback.”

Impressing her made his heart flutter like a bird in his chest and he was only half aware of his father excusing himself and leaving the studio.

Soon, Chloé’s makeup and hair were complete and Vincent impatiently started the shoot, calling out his trademark eccentric instructions. Adrien was aware that Ivan and Marinette were watching as they cleaned their equipment and tidied items into their set bags. Occasionally, one would make a comment to the other—once, Ivan said something to make Marinette giggle.

“Adrien! Look at the camera, please!”

“Sorry.”

“You have two wonderful ladies here, I need you to focus on them. They are bella, yes?”

Marinette caught him looking at her. “Si', bellissima.”

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought she blushed.

“Yes! Good! Now, think sexy!”

_He paused, glancing up and down the stairs. Reading his hesitation, Ladybug turned and pressed her back into his chest, maintaining eye contact with a glance over her shoulder. When she kneeled on the step, he followed her lead, kneeling behind her. Her hand guided him inside her and he revelled in every gasp and moan._

“Makeup, please! Adrien looks a little sweaty.”

Marinette came towards him with powder and lightly dabbed his face. The corners of her lips twitched.

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” she grinned. “I was just thinking, maybe you were thinking too sexy?”

He laughed. She was funny and easy to talk to, but around her, he tripped over his words. When she booped his nose with the brush and winked, he was certain he flatlined.

Beside him, Chloé sneered. “Really, Adrien? You can have anyone you want and you’re making kitten eyes at the makeup artist?”

“Hey! My girlfriend is a makeup artist!” Rose interjected.

Adrien rolled his eyes. The bickering would last all day.

Mercifully, Vincent decided he was happy with the shots he had after another hour of Rose and Chloé sniping and scowling at each other whenever the camera wasn’t on them. Adrien had one final chance to speak to Marinette before they packed up and left.

_She ran her fingers through her hair, exposing her shoulders. Kissing and nipping at her smooth skin, he lingered on a tattoo between her shoulder blades; pink and green beads on a red string. Ladybug moved his hand between her legs and showed him where to touch her. He quickly found a rhythm, feeling her respond to his fingers._

He sidled up to her, part awkward man, part crab. All he had to do was say goodbye, thank her for her work on the shoot…

“Hey, thanks for my face… I mean for, you know, making it… less shiny.”

If her act of affection earlier hadn’t killed him, he’d have died of embarrassment on the spot. Small mercies.

“You’re sweet, Adrien. I look forward to working with you again.”

She swung her set bag over her shoulder before reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He stood, frozen to the spot, watching her break into a little jog to catch up with Ivan. The studio’s swing doors closed and she disappeared. He pressed his hand to the place her lips touched, vowing to never wash that patch of skin again.

_The sensation of her muscles rippling around him, and the low, breathy way she repeated the word ‘Chat’ when she came…_

…That was now the second best moment of the weekend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the gratitude to EtoilesJaunes, ZiriO and MiniMinou for their encouragement, expert eyes and screech-cannoning. Y'all give me life.

Alya stepped into the café and breathed in the warm coffee-scented air. She glanced around until she spotted a familiar figure ín her usual spot, hunched over a sketchbook, half a cup of coffee on the table, long forgotten. It was the pose she was most used to finding Marinette in (if you didn’t count her parties, where she was more likely to be found on her back, with a cute girl or guy between her legs.) Alya would call her a pillow princess if she didn’t know from experience that she could give as good as she got.

“Hey, girl. What are you drawing?”

Marinette jumped up to greet her, leaving the pad open so Alya could see. It was a face chart, surrounded by blocks of colour and scribbled notes.

“The Gabriel editorial shoot is coming up and I want to get the look right,” she said, frowning at the page.

“And it’s not working?”

“It’s _fine_ ,” she sighed. “Just very simple. I guess I’m longing for an excuse to release my inner Alex Box, while every designer in town wants no-makeup-makeup.”

“There’s always Fashion Week? Fall/Winter trends are usually bolder.” Alya offered.

“Let’s hope so.”

Marinette dropped her pencils on the table in resignation.

“Coffee?”

“I’ll get it,” Marinette said and went to the counter while Alya removed her coat and sat down.

She leaned across the table and flipped through the sketchbook. In amongst the various makeup looks and occasional lingerie designs, she found something that made her smile. When Marinette returned, carrying two cups, she groaned.

“No! Don’t look at that, it’s just a doodle.”

“A very detailed doodle,” Alya observed, “of a certain kitty-kat who, I have on good authority, had his world rocked the other night by the beautiful and enigmatic Ladybug.”

Marinette smirked and slammed her notebook shut.

“He’s not the only one who had his world rocked,” she admitted, blushing violently and rubbing the back of her neck, trying to hide her face behind her hair.

Making a note to say, “I told you so”, to Nino later, Alya stifled a grin. She knew Adrien was Marinette’s type, no matter how much her husband thought he knew better. All of her past lovers had a roguish edge in common and she knew that, deep down, Adrien had it too. Underneath the facade of boy-next-door that his father insisted he maintain, past the sweet naivete that came from a sheltered upbringing, and a lack of confidence from his relationship with Lila, Alya saw his impish sense of humour and mischievous personality. She also knew that Marinette was the perfect person to bring it out.

“Are you smitten with the kitten?”

“I… I can’t stop thinking about him.” Marinette’s cheeks reached peak crimson.

“You know I can’t tell you anything about him, right?”

“I know the rules. Particularly number five and eight.”

Alya laughed. Marinette helped her make the rules, she knew them very well.

“I _can_ tell you one thing though. He’s registered for ‘Restrained’.”

“Okay… You don’t usually give me tidbits. Why do I feel like you want something?”

Alya fluttered her eyelashes. “Because I do. Luka’s current rope bunny has recently become his ex and we need someone for the demo.”

Marinette sighed and rolled her eyes. She’d protest, but Alya knew she’d agree in the end—Marinette never left a friend in need if she could help out.

“Why me?”

“Girl, please. You and Luka are the only two people in history who actually managed to break up and remain friends. You have awesome chemistry and no awkwardness. Besides, it’s too late for him to find another rope bottom and train them.”

“Fine! Only if you buy me a crêpe. With strawberries and ice cream, thanks.”

She nodded towards the counter before picking up her coffee and taking a long drink. Alya laughed.

“You’ve got a deal.”

From the counter, Alya watched Marinette flip back to the page she was working on and sketch a second face next to the one she had already drawn. She frowned, scrutinising her work. This campaign with Gabriel was the most high-profile of her career so far and Alya know how important it was. She also knew that Marinette had a habit of overthinking things. As the best friend, it was her role to reassure her that she was talented when pressure and overthinking inevitably tipped into self-doubt.

“Mine’s a crêpe with banana and Nutella, thanks.”

She spun around at the voice of her husband behind her.

“Babe! What are you doing here?”

He kissed her. “I’m just introducing my man, Adrien, to the delights of our favourite crêperie. I didn’t realise those delights would extend to the clientele today.”

Alya raised her eyebrows.

“I’m actually here with a friend.”

She gestured as subtly as possible with her eyes to where Marinette was concentrating on drawing. Nino’s lips curled upwards just enough to communicate his understanding. 

“Why don’t we join you?”

Nino winked before turning to Adrien with an innocent expression on his face. Adrien looked blindsided.

“Uh, sure? I don’t want to interrupt.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “What are you having?”

He browsed the menu with a look of wonderment, like a kid in a chocolate factory. Eyes wide, he chewed his lip as he read the list of crêpe fillings. Then, he sighed.

“Uh, I’ll have a galette with spinach and egg.”

“No, you won’t,” Alya insisted. “You’re allowed to have fun sometimes, no matter what your father says.”

Pink coloured his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. She couldn’t help thinking that he and Marinette were made for each other.  

“Okay, I’ll have strawberries and ice cream.”

Yep. Made for each other.

Crêpes ordered, Alya led Nino and Adrien to the table where Marinette was still intently scribbling in her sketchbook. She didn’t look up until a second chair scraped on the floor. On seeing Nino, her face broke into a smile and she jumped up to hug him. Behind him, Adrien’s blush was intensifying.

“Good to see you Mar,” Nino said. “This is my friend…”

“Adrien,” she beamed. “Nice to see you again.”

He reached out a hand to shake hers, but she leaned over Nino and kissed his cheek. His eyes almost popped out his head.

“You’ve met?” Alya asked.

“Last week,” Adrien confirmed, a slight tremor in his voice. “At the Gabriel shoot. Marinette was the makeup artist.”

Alya felt her muscles unclench. For a brief moment she thought they had recognised each other from the party.

“Of course,” Nino exclaimed. “I totally spaced on that. You guys are going to see a whole lot of each other in the coming months, I bet.”

She pressed her lips together to suppress a giggle. Neither Marinette nor Adrien got the joke. This was going to be fun.

“A-a-are those your sketches for the campaign?” Adrien stammered.

Marinette passed the book to him. “They’re still unfinished, but yes.”

“I like them,” he said. “I’m sure Gabriel will, too.”

“I hope so.”

“Girl, you know he will. You’re the best in the business.”

“Thanks, Al,” Marinette sighed.

Alya manoeuvred Nino to the seat next to her so Adrien had to sit beside Marinette. She didn’t notice, she was too busy putting her sketchbook in her bag and gathering up her pencils, ready for their food to arrive. The server placed their crêpes on the table and Alya distributed cutlery. When Marinette reached for the pepper mill, she barely paid attention.

Adrien did.

“What are you doing?”

Marinette casually unfolded her crêpe and ground pepper over the strawberries.

“I’m making them better.”

Nino snickered. “She puts salt on her watermelon, too, you’ll learn to tune out her weirdness soon enough.”

“No! It’s not weird! The pepper counteracts the tartness of the berries and makes them sweeter,” Marinette argued. “It’s proven.”

Adrien just stared, unconvinced, so Marinette took his fork from his hand and speared a strawberry from his plate, then stabbed one from hers with her own.

“Close your eyes.”

He did, his face flushing again to resemble the fruit in question.

“Open your mouth.”

Alya sniggered and Marinette shot her a dirty look. She delicately fed Adrien one of the strawberries and he chewed thoughtfully.

“Okay, open up again.”

She fed him the second strawberry, Adrien’s hand over her hers to guide the fork into his mouth. A satisfied look spread over her face as she watched him savour the morsel. His eyes shot open in surprise.

“It tastes better! Not just sweeter, but richer too,” he admitted.

She held eye contact, his hand continued to rest on hers.

“The heat rounds out the sweetness so you can taste the flavour of the strawberry better.”

“Marinette is the authority on the good things that happen when you add a little spice to something sweet,” Nino chuckled, nudging Alya under the table.

He received a sideways warning look before Marinette turned her attention back to Adrien.

“It works on all summer fruits.”

“Oh,” he managed, before she ran her thumb under his bottom lip.

“Strawberry juice,” she explained and licked her thumb.

Alya was certain she saw steam come out of Adrien’s ears.

“Who needs porn?” Alya said. “We can just watch these two feed each other.”

“I’m horny,” Nino agreed.

“You’re always horny,” Marinette shot back.

“No, sometimes I’m hungry.”

Adrien blushed some more and removed his hand from Marinette’s, suddenly self-conscious.

Alya laughed to herself. For all that Ladybug was the belle of Rena Rouge parties, Marinette was frustratingly unaware of how other people felt towards her. This boy had a serious crush and she had no idea.  

Taking pity on Adrien, Nino volunteered to change the subject.

“How’s work, Mar?”

She shrugged, fork full of crêpe and berries held midway to her mouth. “Busy. Spring/Summer campaigns to shoot, Fall/Winter fashion shows to plan and somewhere in all that, I need to fit in Alya’s headshots for the blog and book. You?”

“Same.”

“Mari was just telling me that she’s a little bored by the recent call sheets,” Alya added.

“I’m not _bored_. It all feels a little samey, that’s all.”

“Tell me about it, Mar. I’m itching to do something less _wholesome_. Spring/Summer is all about freshness and youth, I can’t even. And all the campaigns I’m shooting are so routine I could do them with my eyes shut.”

“Urgh, right? Natural beauty is great, don’t get me wrong. It’s classic. As a makeup artist, though, sometimes it’s just…”

“Boring?”

Marinette nodded.

Nino sighed. “I want to do something _else_. Stark, dramatic, but still…”

“Sensual?” Marinette finished for him.   

“Why don’t you do a shoot with Nino?” Alya suggested. “It sounds like you have a shared vision, and you could both do with a change of scenery.”

Marinette’s smile answered for her, excitement sparkling in her eyes.

“It’ll be like the old days,” Nino confirmed.

She held her fist out to him and he bumped it.

“What about you, Buttercup?” Alya asked. “Ever feel like dropping the butter-won’t-melt image and releasing your inner tom-cat?”

“Uh,” Adrien.exe stopped working.

Marinette shone with enthusiasm.

“Oh, yes! The things I could do with that bone structure! And, if I got you in kohl liner, Adrien, damn. You’d cause earthquakes from millions of panties hitting the ground across the world.”

Adrien made a bleating sound and Nino snorted. Alya shook with barely contained laughter.

“What?!” Marinette protested. “He’s a model, I don’t think it’s a secret to anyone that he’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Sorry, did I embarrass you? My mouth has a mind of its own sometimes.”

Iced coffee came out of Nino’s nose and Alya slapped him on the back until he stopped coughing. Whether he meant it or not, it provided enough of a diversion for Adrien and Marinette to forget their awkwardness.

“So, how do you all know each other?” Adrien asked once Nino’s airways were free from mocha.

“We’ve known Marinette for years, since university,” Alya said. “She was studying fashion design and Nino and I were studying photography. The fashion students needed someone to photograph their creations and the photography students needed practice so we all developed a close working relationship.”

“We all, uh, clicked,” Nino added. “And that’s all, really.”

“It was Nino who got me into makeup artistry, actually.”

“You did?” Adrien leaned in, interested.

“Yeah, man. I was shooting some final projects and the models needed makeup. Mari always looked good so I figured she’d know how to make them camera ready. The looks she created were so great, I ended up taking more photos of the models’ faces than the clothes. After that, any time I was doing a shoot, I called her.”

Marinette continued. “After uni, I applied to assist a makeup artist for Fashion Week and he liked me enough that I became his apprentice.”

“While Nino was working his butt off on fashion shoots, catwalk shows, and anything else he could do to get experience and build up his photography portfolio, Marinette was doing the same thing with makeup.”

“So, we collaborated. And one of those collaborations got noticed,” Nino said, grinning at the memory.

“It opened doors for us both.”

“Wow, so you guys are pretty close, then.”

Alya’s eyes darted to Nino, then Marinette, each meeting her gaze for the briefest moment.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Pretty close.”

════════∘◦ 🌹 ◦∘═════════

Nino put his arm around his wife as they walked towards to Metro station, after leaving Marinette at the last junction. Adrien’s chauffeur picked him up from outside the café, Gabriel insisted on it.

“Is it just me, or does Adrien have it bad for Marinette?”

She laughed. “That’s an understatement, Nino. Your boy’s in so deep, we might have to send out a rescue party. Meanwhile, Mari has no clue how he feels.”

“Of course not.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes until he had to ask.

“Should we tell him how we _really_ became friends?”

“No,” Alya said, “That’s not up to us. If something happens between the two of them, it’s Marinette’s secret to tell”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos, they motivate me to write more. I *will* reply to you all eventually, promise.

**Author's Note:**

> The Rena Rouge Party Rules:  
> 1\. No mask, no admission.  
> 2\. Women come first, men do not approach women.  
> 3\. Consent is essential. No means no.  
> 4\. Men must ask for permission to message a woman. Management has the right to refuse this request for any reason.  
> 5\. No (real) names.  
> 6\. Use protection every time.  
> 7\. Treat everybody with respect.  
> 8\. What happens at RR Parties, stays at RR Parties. All guests must sign an NDA.  
> 9\. Have fun!


End file.
